Red Hot Christmas (33 page)

      She shook her head. “Afraid your mom will hear us?”
 

      The idea of luscious, red haired Sydney moaning and whimpering under him set his pulse on a wild race. “Yes. I’m too old to bring girlfriends home.”

      “Will we be…?” She cleared her throat. “Safe?”

      “The bodyguard is coming behind us. There’s an employee’s quarter over the garage.”
 

      For the rest of the way until they reached the airfield, she contemplated the view and he found himself stealing glances at her profile. The contours of her face loosened, and the quirky, snarky line on her mouth was replaced by soft, parted lips. Warm.

      What was he doing? Trying to play house with a woman who was trouble? No. He was taking care of his record-breaking boner, and they would have the privacy they needed at the beach house.
 

      During the short helicopter ride, she sat next to him in the front. Even though she was not a pilot, because of her line of work, the height and dozens of buttons didn’t faze her. While he piloted them to the house, with the bodyguards in the back of the helicopter, he realized maybe that was why she fascinated him. There was no telling what would or wouldn’t impress Sydney Bell.
 

      After he landed at the helipad without a hitch, he gave the bodyguards instructions. Punching the security code by the door only took a couple seconds, then he gestured for her to enter the house. Sure, he had visited the beach house a few times after Amparo’s death. Blame it on family events he couldn’t miss. But his visits were always short, filled with tension and pain. He had never attempted to change that nature, because the belief he deserved that grief was deeply seeded in his brain.
 

      She walked in, and the amount of mirrors from floor to ceiling stole her attention from him. “Wow. You are right. I am offended,” she said, referring to the conversation they had a couple days ago when she’d arrived in his mother’s penthouse.
 

      Two days…yet it seemed like it had been months instead. He had opened up to her in a way he never did, with anyone. The interactions he had shared with Carla, the only woman he had considered for marriage, were shallow and superficial if compared to the emotions that poured out of him when with Sydney. Why?
 

      He knew having her would put an end to his craving, but it would also open the door to the unknown. What could he offer her? The relationship with Carla should have been the exception to the rule. They should have been happy, but if anything it showed him he could be a happy, satisfied man on his own. Drama was something he had to deal with growing up in the public eye, and enduring his parents’ arguments. Pain had been something he’d dealt with when Amparo had left. Shame had stalked him after Carla fabricated all those lies about him. Not shame of the aggression he didn’t do, but of not knowing better.
 

Yet…the pull between them was beyond understanding. There was something about Sydney that made him feel foolish inside. Foolish and aroused.
 

      “What now?” She turned to him, and shuffled her weight from foot to foot. Her big bad girl attitude disappeared, or at least was on a coffee break. He curled his fists to fight the urge to pull her to him, shred her of her clothes, and make her his on the sofa. His…temporarily, a small voice inside him whispered.
 

      He cocked his head in the direction of the beach. “How about a walk?”
 

      She upped a brow. “So I can be sweaty and out of breath before sex? Sounds like a plan.”

 
“I don’t mind you sweaty and out of breath.”
Not one bit.
 

      She removed her shoes and tossed them to the side. “Let’s do this then.”
 

      He took off his shoes and socks, put his jacket over a chair. His nerve endings sizzled as he cut across to her and offered his hand. She gave it a glance before accepting it, and his heart skipped a beat. Savoring the smile spreading across his face, he opened the white French doors and led her to the beach. After descending the flight of stairs, his toes dove into the clear white sand.
 

      “This is nice,” she said. They walked side by side. Her fingers softly touched his, and an awareness shot through his body. “I can’t remember the last time I went to the beach.”

      “I take it for granted I guess.” Even though they were both dressed, having her so close to him as they strolled under the moonlight was downright erotic.
 

      She slowed her pace. “Why did you bring me here? You could have gotten a room at the hotel.”

      “Because you aren’t the only one with bad memories,” he said, his throat dryer than the sand burying his feet.
 

      She lifted her hand and outlined his jaw. Instantly, his body responded, his skin tingling at her touch. He had shaved earlier in the day, but the stubble on his chin charged with electricity. He let go of her hand and hugged her to him, holding her waist. Curly eyelashes swept over her eyes, and her lips parted. With a low groan that escalated from the depth of his lungs, he dipped his head and lowered his lips to hers.
 

      She whimpered, and the sound brought him undone. He captured her in a passionate, frantic kiss that was a lot more aggressive than he would have planned—but she didn’t seem to mind. She delved her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, and he intensified the strokes of his tongue, and grazed her bottom lip. Strands of desire traveled from his thighs to his cock. If he didn’t get inside her fast enough, he would come in his pants like a damn teenager.
 

      He withdrew from her, and her head bobbed toward him in protest. She opened her eyes slowly.
       

“Not here,” he whispered into her ear, and she nodded.

      By the time they reached his house, his body soared, every cell sizzling on high alert. How ironic that he was the one returning from the beach breathless with his hair ruffled and sweat glistening on his face. They raced through the living area, mixing kisses and moans; bumping and stumbling between pieces of furniture. His vision was blurry, arousal fogging his brain.
 

      When he finally reached his bedroom, he groaned. It didn’t take long to close the door behind them with a kick of his foot, his blood simmering. How lucky was he? To finally tear down her walls, he thought, fumbling out of his shirt.
 

      The full moon stretched over the carpet. Nice, but he needed more. He wanted to see every inch of her, to contemplate her, to show her she had been a fool for doubting her alluring beauty.
 

      He motioned to flip on the light, but she gripped his wrist and said in a rush, “No.”
 

      “Next time.” He managed to hide his disappointment. Too aroused to waste time picking that battle.
 

      She splayed her hands on his chest. He registered the satisfaction on her face, and shameless male pride washed over him. She traced circles on his taut nipples, and she slid her fingers down his pectorals.
 

      He shivered and drew back as if he had been burned. His erection grew harder, and air was squeezed from his lungs. “Miss-Don’t-Touch-Me likes to touch.”

      “She likes a lot of other things, too,” she whispered, the pitch in her voice lowered. “I’m sure you’re about to find out.” She perched her hand on his belt, her fingers toying with the loops.
 

      Man, he couldn’t find out fast enough. He swallowed hard, and unzipped himself, pulling down his trousers and boxers. Turning around, he helped her out of the dress. When he reached for the bra, she inhaled deeply, as if she could absorb all the oxygen around them.
 

      “Relax,
mi amor.
I’m not going to hurt you.” He leaned, planted a kiss on her shoulder, and could feel the little hairs rising on the back of her neck. The statement was obvious, but he figured he needed to remind her, just in case old insecurities threatened her.
 

      She let out a long sigh, and turned to him. “I know.”
 

      He took her to the bed, and eased her on the mattress as if she was a precious china doll. He knew her gaze was riveted on him, and even with the dim lighting, he could see the beam of approval on her face. Moving on, he spread her legs apart and she lifted her bottom to help him rid her of her underwear.
 

      When he touched her hips, he caressed a pocket of skin, his sense enhanced by the low lighting. She quivered under his hand, and he decided to continue his exploratory search of her body. He set a path of feather light kisses on her prickled skin, moving down her.
 

      By the time he would be done with her, she wouldn’t remember anything but him. A part of him he refused to acknowledge for longer than an instant alerted him to be careful. Otherwise, he would be the one having a hard time forgetting about her, when all was said and done.
 

***

Sydney clenched her fingers on the soft sheets, and rumpled them. When was the last time a man had gone down on her? Years. She willed that thought away. To think about any other man while in bed with Alejandro, was fucked up.

      Not that he’d lose in a comparison game. Hell no. He licked the skin above her sex. That alone made her inch toward him, her control over her own body and reactions, null. Currents of sexual energy surged through her, each time faster. Each time, stronger. He cupped between her legs, and nibbled on her damp thighs.
 

      “Alejandro,” she pleaded, finding it hard to breathe.

      “What? You want me to stop?” he asked with a trace of playful innocence.
 

      “No,” she rushed to say. “You’d better not stop.”

      With a sexy chuckle, he positioned is face in between her thighs, leaving no doubt of what was about to happen. Oh. God. She buried the back of her head in the pillow, arching herself toward him. He licked at her center, his tongue stroking her with mastery, and she moaned loud. She thrust her hips at his mouth. He rose to the occasion, plunging his tongue in her and caressing her clit.
 

      She gritted her teeth. A fire brewed in her belly and flooded her entire being, the sensation too good to bottle up. She began shaking in a glorious surrender, happy to lose control over her body if only for a moment.
 

      When the spasms subsided, he found his way to her again, this time kissing her belly button and spending a generous amount of time on her breasts. He cupped one breast while sucking her other nipple, causing the peaceful after sex glow to reenergize.
 

      Her body rumbled. She dug her fingernails in his shoulders, scratching him, wanting to translate the sensations she herself couldn’t describe. Wishing she could brand him like he was branding her. Crazy, she knew. He probably had his pick of women without half the baggage she carried. They had tiny, designer labeled carry-ons. Well, besides his crazy ex.
 

      He nipped her breast, and she angled toward him with a whimper. He worked his way up her neck, and when his lips found hers, she was quivering. She licked a bit of her own tangy and sweet taste on his tongue. He intensified the kiss, anticipating her need for more.
 

      More. The man was magnificent. Screwing him was like sending a hungry homeless person to a lavish all-you-can-eat buffet. Clearly, she would have consequences to deal with later. At the moment, she just wanted to savor him. Every. Single. Bit.
 

      He rolled the condom on and slid on top of her. She parted her legs, and he positioned himself in between them, the tip of his cock brushing against her pussy. He plunged inside her, the sensation overwhelming and exhilarating, and she threw her head back. Quickly, she pushed him and flipped him against the bed so she could be on top. A glorious sense of female power rippled through her, the type she hadn’t experienced, well, ever. This gorgeous man beneath her wanted her. Growled for her.
 

      She straddled him, dictating the rhythm. He egged her on, massaged her breasts, and she let out a trail of hoarse moans. He tugged at her hardened nipple, and another thrill surged through her, starting between her thighs and fast tracking throughout. He groaned, and held her waist with his hands, increasing the pressure his cock delved into her. At each thrust, he hit a deeper, more sensitive spot. She matched his passion with her own, and leaned over him, the promise of pleasure threatening to run her raggard. Her breasts bounced down his face, and he licked her nipples. The tip of his finger swirling over her prickled flesh.
 

      “Alejandro,” she moaned, and he spun her on her back and continued to impale her, quickening the rhythm. Oh. Yes.
 

      Her heart slammed against her rib cage, every beat stronger than the last. She closed her eyes, and enjoyed the moment. She clenched her inner muscles one last time, then her body followed suit…currents of climax shattering through her. Wow.
 

      They lay next to each other, as their breathing slowed. He took her hand and kissed it, then murmured something in Spanish. When he swung one leg over the other and headed to the bathroom, she assumed he was disposing of the condom. She pulled the sheet over her and clicked her tongue. Damn. What just happened?